[CHINA] Trouble Brewing (Mahir)

[Molten Tigrex]

China was an oddly familiar place. It reminded him of the decorations in Mengyao's home - the architecture of the town he overlooked had the same strange, fragile elegance. Mahir didn't see the point of it all. Settling back down where he couldn't be seen, he set down his traveling bag. Out came his tools, wood, ingredients, and his makeshift portable laboratory was ready to go in a matter of minutes.

Mahir was perfectly at home in front of the licking flame, carefully grinding each ingredient into a fine powder. Or at least, trying to. He had once had hands perfectly suited to these tasks. Those hands were folded neatly below his cloak, the telltale grey infection spread from wrists to fingertips, exposing bone. Instead, he contended with the shadowy arms he'd engineered in their place to measure and grind, tend the flames and check that the vial of liquid remained a deep gold. He could fall back into the routine.

It was a welcome distraction from the ever-present pain, and the faint whispering he could never grow used to.

RANGE: 4  

[Molten Tigrex]

(( Warning?? ))

Mahir took an extra moment to compare the golden vial to his crystal. Perfect.

Out of the alley and around the corner, there was the hustle and bustle of humans and their strange contraptions. Mahir paid no mind to the things that rushed past in the middle of the road, or the humans that walked past unaware of his presence. They would know, soon enough, and by then it would be too late for them to anything but fear.

Vendors lined this street. The smell of a hundred kinds of meat cooking a hundred different ways was thick in the air. Mahir was no stranger to such things - but he breathed it in and frowned slightly. There was something missing.

He slipped unnoticed into a booth, watching carefully as the human tended to a large pot of something. Soup? Stew? Things bubbled to the surface and sank back in, no longer recognizable. The cook was arguing with a woman in a language Mahir couldn't understandle, a ladle halfway to his mouth to taste. More than enough time to allow Mahir to add a single drop of toxin, charged with his own FEAR.

It was a potent dose, and Mahir didn't have long to wait. He could see the human glancing back to the pot, to the gristle and viscera cooking over flames. Food all around him, and none he could have. The unnatural hunger must be kicking in, but what would it crave --

Something in the human snapped. Ignoring the surprise and horror of his woman partner, he reached into the pot, bare hands scooping up boiling liquid and splashing it into his mouth over and over. The skin of his hands bubbled and blistered as he finally grabbed hold of the handles and lifting the entire thing up with supernatural strength. His eyes were frantic, confused. She was screaming; he was screaming. Mahir was smiling.

A slosh, a heavy clatter of metal, and the screaming descended into animal howling. The human writhed on the dirty ground, his raw red hands still reaching toward the fires just out of reach. There was a sickly smell of burned flesh rising from his exposed face and hands. Ah. That was what they were missing.

It wouldn't do to spoil the surprise, though. The woman had run out into the street for help, and the world was gradually turning an eye to the horror that had occurred. Mahir leaned in close to the human. His breathing was ragged, and his teeth gnashed. One, two, three shadowy arms looped around his neck. And tightened. The human made a familiar choking noise, froth bubbling from his lips. Their eyes darted toward the empty air Mahir occupied. For just a moment, here on the brink of death, the human could see him. Feel him. But the bright red color of his burned face had begun to dull into blue, and those eyes that regarded him with horror had eventually rolled back until only the whites remained. Asphyxiation. Clean, effective, quiet. Let the rest wonder what was in their food or water.

There were sirens in the distance. Mahir gathered his cloak around him and slipped back into the shadows.  

[Molten Tigrex]

Mahir sent a cloud of the potion to the air, the fumes spreading the noxious plague. It floated into one of the metal boxes full of human children. He grinned. Though it would not be fast, it would certainly spark the fear he needed.

+2 FEAR

3 range left  

[Molten Tigrex]

A scream pealed from a building nearby. It looked very official, like the spire, but square. This was going very well.

A sudden pain grabbed his attention, as something sliced at him. A little hunter, here? They were fast, weren't they.

"You're too late, little human," he grinned.

HP: 39/40

+1 FEAR

2 range left

[A.V.]

COME BAAAAACK

 

[Toshihiko Two]

EMERGENCY. ...Another one?

Harrison was in and out of the lighthouse pretty damn quick. There it is, target get, B0nez said. He tried to send both swords at the funniest looking guy in the market, and missed.

"I know it's cold season and all, but this is ******** ridiculous."

HP: 50
DMG: nothing
Target: Mahir  

[Baneful]

Another emergency mission. He wasn't even getting a chance to sit down today. He wasn't complaining, a change of pace, some action for once. Not only sanctioned violence but violence that could in theory help earn him a little bit of respect in the ranks.

He was losing track of the places they were going to, merely different humidities, different warmth, different dead people. All that mattered was, their namesake - the hunt itself.

HP 50/50
DMG 4
Charge 1/3
 

[Rown]

Ofelia's phone went off, it was time to go after another emergency, and she was pretty sure that camping at the lighthouse would be a good idea. It looked like others had the same idea, Harrison was there in front of her, and then - "Jake?!"

What the hell was he - a trainee by himself? Ofelia nearly flipped her s**t, summoning Rue and charging in.

hp 50
damage 7 pts
charge  

[MoonKitsune]

Melvin was right behind Harrison, looking sick at all this strange disease he was being exposed to every time he picked up these missions. So far his bill of health with the Infirmary wasn't showing anything, but this couldn't he healt - Were those live chickens over in those crates?!!!

Melvin stepped away before aiming for the target of everyone's weapons and hate. Aiming, he fired before waiting to charge again. "These guys are like the plague."



HP: 40/40
DMG: 8
CHRG: 1/3  

[Pixie Nyxie]

Emergency mission called for moons to roll out. And while Dakota didn't want to go anywhere at the moment in fear of leaving his friends...

Mission came first.

"s**t s**t s**t." Jake was the first trainee he saw on the field...followed by Rep and Harrison. Oh this just spelled fantastic on so many levels. He moved past the other hunters, engaging the enemy in close combat.

Dakota: 50/50
Damage: 6
Charge: 1/3 Y3 Barrier, Y2 Swift Kicks  

[Bilious]

"AWOOWOOWOOOOOOOO!" Jerry didn't mind the constant business. This was where he was functional. Where he could deal with life. It was simple, it was straightforward, it was... relaxing.

He wasted no time firing away.

HP: 60/60
Damage: 8
Charge: 1/3  

[its me debz]

Toxins were Isi-Ngoma's specialty, brewed with ill intent, burbling with the potential of something dark and noxious.

They were his among his favourite things, second only to his legion of tarantulas in his home. The Famine Sage was used to the younglings botching alchemical operations, adding too much of this ingredient or chopping them too finely.

Upon encountering Mahir's operation during a routine inspection, the horseman frowned. With a metallic sound piercing the air, he summoned his weapon-- a bladed whip, long and deadly. Isi-Ngoma cracked it, in the direction of two blonds.

Stats

HP// 100
Targets// Melvin, Harrison
Damage// 3 to each

Appearance
Clan// Famine
Rank// Sage

 

[Molten Tigrex]

Where there had been one hunter, suddenly there were nearly ten, weapons swinging. Decent odds for a protector, but not a single horseman.

There was only the faintest look of surprise on the horseman's face before he faded away.

(( FAILURE ))